The Faded Sutra
The air in the antechamber of the High Court tasted of wet wool and old iron, a thick, cloying scent that clung to the back of the throat and made it difficult to breathe, let alone speak with the clarity required for a man who had spent his life as a wanderer, a man who had carried the weight of a thousand miles on his shoulders and now stood before the Tribunal of the Silver Crown, a body of...
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